I don't have any particular dysphoria, but...

🌙 I just hope that those with strong opinions will never see this. 🌙

There are some things I've always felt like I didn't have the right to say. I was always someone's daughter, someone's girl-friend, someone's girlfriend, "one of the girls", a gamer girl, part of a girl group, and the list goes on. I'm glad to have been born as a female and get to experience life as one. But as I reflect on how I want to live my life, whilst praying that the luxury of choice doesn't run out before I find my answer, I cannot escape confronting how I feel about it.

I don't have well constructed thoughts on the matter. It always feels like a scream coming from the deepest recesses of my mind. Sometimes I cannot tell if they're my purest intentions, or my brain throwing out words to rationalize my emotional response. In any case, to get on with my life I had to learn to suppress the feelings and focus on reaching the "ideal outcomes" -- what I do matters more than what I think.

But when I'm with myself a lot more, the screams get louder. Like a version of myself that I cannot see, but is resounding in my mind. I want to let out some of the cries so that they stop echoing endlessly. Nothing here is new. I have shared some of these at different points in my life. Those who need to know would have heard from me. I might never publish this, because why does anyone else need to know?

🌙 Yet here I am. In an attempt to stay positive, I'll start with the positives.🌙

I love my long hair.

I hate it when I feel men admire/ appreciate it (looking, touching).

I love my sharp shoulders, collar bone, how my ribs show through my skin, how prominent my metacarpal bones and veins are on my hands.

I hate the feeling of my breasts when I give hugs, my waist when someone touches it, my hips when I put on a pair of pants.

I love my ability to make loud sounds (despite growing up as a soft-spoken kid, I turned out to be quite the yell-er).

I hate how, no matter what I tried, I was never masculine enough to be "boyish", or sound feminine enough to be "cool".

I love that I get to fantasize and dress up like it's normal.

I hate that when I don't, that I'm "wasted potential". My heart soars when I hear someone say, "You're my..."

My heart twists when I'm referred to as a girlfriend/ wife.

My heart soars when I'm "the special one" in a team, even if being special is just because I'm female.

My heart twists when I'm a part of the team because I'm a female, or the partner of a straight man.

My heart soars when I put on a pair of heels that make me as tall or taller than most people I see on the street.

My heart twists when I realize that I worry about how others might feel about a "female being taller".

My heart soars when others show their appreciation for me -- for my appearance, presence, or character.

My heart twists when men use words like pretty, cute, and hot, to describe me.

I'm grateful for the girls throughout my life who showered me with affection even when I didn't feel like I deserved it.

But it always hurt when I realized that they only felt free to do so because I wasn't a man.

I'm grateful for the guys who felt I was good enough to deserve their attention, so I never had to doubt whether I was desirable.

But it always hurt knowing that the pursuit always led to wanting to touch my physical form, like "I" was never enough.

I'm grateful for the experience of feeling like I don't belong -- I felt like an alien before I even had the words for it. I felt like I existed somewhere else, pulled into this reality.

But it always hurt feeling like I was alone, when others passed me off as "normal" and "one of them". It's always been a struggle to truly feel a connection with someone.

I don't know how else to phrase it: I'm more than just a female. People think they love me for my character, acknowledging how my lived experience shaped who I am. But in the end my gender matters. They put up barriers or make exceptions for what I look like when my clothes are off.

I don't know how else to phrase it: After so many years of feeling caged up, the genderless person inside me wants to cause death and destruction to the world that demanded their existence but never looked at them in the eye. Actually, they were always there, screaming in pain behind my eyes when I smile for others and show kindness to those who I hoped would never have to live with this pain. Witnessing someone else's happiness has always been bittersweet for me. I empathize with their elation and sincerely wish it to be never-ending, but writhe in pain and envy for such light never parted the darkness for as long as I can remember. In the end, I wipe away the sweat and tears inside, striving to see beyond physical reality in hopes that no one else needs to struggle to be seen.

I don't know how else to phrase it: It feels like the best parts of me had to rot away because they would have made life more difficult for myself. They keep being forced in and out of the body because that's the path of less friction for everyone else around -- except myself. At some point, my childhood dream for a knight to walk next to me to fight through life's horrors together died. No one was coming for me because they always wanted to either honor me from behind, or protect me by walking in front. I never asked for a hand to hold. All I ever wanted was for someone to see me, my reality, and to path through the forest together. We could go in circles, we could exit the forest someday, we could even choose to make camp at a clearing. The point was to know they wanted to be there no matter what too. But...

In the end, it's always desire for my physical form and sex.

In the end, it's always a balancing act of feminine beauty over masculine vigor

I understand: That's how it is naturally for majority of the human population. People feel what they feel. No one should ever diminish another's truth. I understand: Those who truly care and appreciate me will always try their best to make me feel seen and valued.

But my body still draws breath. Each breath clears my mind just enough to hear the screams. Each exhale relaxes my mind enough to release the tears. I get through every moment because from the recesses of my mind, I can hear them whisper,

"I walk with you still."

Now, more than ever.

Thank you for persisting. Maybe all I ever needed was to be my own friend.

💙💜🩷